


Catmeleon Week

by softSnowdrop



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Fluff without Plot, No Plot/Plotless, kinda angsty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 09:54:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13633905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softSnowdrop/pseuds/softSnowdrop
Summary: A series of Catmeleon Week oneshots. Hopefully I can do them all.Prompts are found on catmeleonweek.tumblr.com





	Catmeleon Week

                Long days were common when you were a member of the White Fang—they were especially hard if you worked in certain factions of it. Raiding missions, fights, transportion, ambushes, and so much more just became the daily norm.

                While the days were long, nights felt brief, like they could never go on for long enough—some nights were sleepless, other nights embraced heavy, much-needed rest.

                Blake Belladonna was almost always on the sleepless side of things, even though some of those around her slept well—their bodies too exhausted to even think of fighting sleep—she almost never had a decent rest after a mission.

                She would find herself sitting in front of the slowly-lowering fire—often alone, sometimes joined by the others, sometimes joined specifically by one of her friends.

 

                “You can't sleep?” A familiar voice called out from behind her—quiet, concerned, and caring. “I figured that I'd find you out here.”

                Blake slowly craned her head around to glance over her shoulder at the other; seeing her caused her shoulders to relax, and a small smile to form on her lips. “Ilia.” She said, breathing a sigh of relief.

                “I don't think anyone else would be up this late, it's almost always only us.” She returned the smile and slowly sat down next to her, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “I knew that I would find you over here when I didn't see you in your tent.”

 

                 _Considering how often this happens, I think you'll always have a pretty good idea of where to find me._ Blake thought to herself, watching the other stare into the dying embers with a small smile; though she was stressed, something about Ilia's presence soothed her, relaxed her.

                “Something on your mind?” Ilia asked, looking away from the barely-lit flame and flashing yet another worried smile in Blake's direction. “Something's always on your mind when you're out here.”

                Blake hesitated, her smile changing from that of friendliness to something more akin to heartbreak. She redirected her gaze away from Ilia—just as Ilia's own face dropped at the sight of Blake's sad smile—and stared back into the fire pit.

                “It's... Nothing, Ilia. It's just what's always on my mind.”

                Ilia paused, slowly reaching out to touch Blake's arm; she noticed Blake flinching, even if it was only slightly, only briefly, and started to withdraw. “You're still worried that we're not doing the right thing, aren't you?”

                It took a few seconds, but Blake gave a slow, heavy nod, her eyes never once looking back at Ilia.

                “Well, if this isn't what the right thing is, then we need to change it.” Ilia, though more carefully, placed a hand on Blake's shoulder—she was relieved to see that the other didn't flinch in response this time, and she relaxed herself. “But... I really do think this is what we need to be doing.”

                “Maybe.” Blake gave a small shrug, slowly turning to look at Ilia again. “I'm just really not sure about it—everything that Adam's doing, it all just feels wrong.”

                “I... Feel that way, too, sometimes.” Ilia watched Blake carefully, taking into the anxiety written on her face, the concern in her eyes—and she held herself back. She wanted to reach out, give her more than a soft touch on the shoulder—she wanted to pull her into a tight hug, she wanted to give her more reassurance than just words. “But... That's just how things are right now. It's bad, and it's not that great. It's hell, really.”

                “Ilia...”

                “We just have to keep fighting, right?”

                Blake looked off to the side, no longer looking at Ilia. “I just. Don't think this is how we should be fighting.”

                It took Ilia a moment to respond—she swallowed hard, a lump catching in her throat when she finally did speak up. “Maybe you're right.” She said, keeping her voice as stable as she could. “Maybe you're right, and everything we're doing is wrong. But right now, we're getting results.”

 

                The words were lost on Blake; she redirected her attention back into the nearly-dead fire once again.

                Silence fell upon the two for awhile—what was only a few minutes felt like an hour. It was broken when Blake, ever-so-slowly, leaned herself against Ilia, her head resting on Ilia's shoulder, and her hand slowly finding hers.

                “I just wish I could figure out something—there has to be a better way to handle all of this. I know there is.” She murmured softly.

                Ilia's cheeks flushed at the motion, at the softness and worry in Blake's voice, at everything about her in the moment—she slowly moved her arm around Blake, her hand finding a resting place at Blake's waist.

                “Ilia?” Blake paused, her tone shifting—she sounded more direct, more steady. “Are you okay?”

                “Why wouldn't I be?” Ilia asked, giving the other's hand a soft squeeze. “I'm here with you, aren't I?”

                A quiet chuckle caught in Blake's throat. “You always say that.”

                “It's true, though!” Ilia's expression changed once again, a smile curling on her lips for half a second before changing into another concerned smile. “I'm just worried about you.”

                “Thanks.”

                “I think that you should try to get some rest, alright, Blake?” Ilia pulled her as close as she could—she was already leaning against her, so she really just squeezed Blake's side against her own—and planted a soft kiss on her temple.

                “Alright. You, too, Ilia.”

                “I only came out here to check on you.” Ilia's smile grew once again, and she slowly released Blake from her gentle grip. “Want a kiss before we go to bed?”

                Blake couldn't help but smile and roll her eyes; Ilia's specks were the brightest pink they had been in awhile, and her eyes were glistening in the dim light of the torches set around camp. “I would love one.” She said as she leaned in, planting a soft kiss on Ilia's lips, then her cheeks, before slowly rising. “I'll see you in the morning?”

                “I've gotta go out first thing—I'll slip into your tent so we can talk before I go?”

                “I'll see you then, Ilia.”

 


End file.
